Sherlock Bloody Holmes
by DeathFrizbee
Summary: Louise Bell is a forensic scientist for Scotland Yard, who reluctantly and frustratingly decides to put up with Sherlock's random visits to her lab. Not ashamed of her family's past, she and her family may just be called upon to utilize their skills once more. Sherlock x OC I suck at summaries. (Rated M just to be safe, I've been known to use quite colourful language)
1. My Lab, Not Yours

Sherlock Bloody Holmes

****I own nothing, though I wish I did, alas I do not, happy reading!****

"God damn it man, I'm a forensic scientist, not a miracle worker!" Louise huffed to Lestrade, who was tapping his foot impatiently, not wanting to be the bearer of this news. "I can't just magic a DNA comparison out of thin air, it takes time!" She continued, rolling her eyes, knowing that he knew this already, removing her plastic safety goggles and pinching the bridge of her nose.

"I know Lou, but they're for _him, _and you know how he gets when he has to wait for something." Lestrade elaborated, justifying his persistence, giving enough away for Louise to have clocked on.

"This DNA is for Sherlock bloody Holmes isn't it?" She asked, deadpan, unfortunately already knowing the answer.

"'Fraid so… Sorry." Greg sighed, attempting a smile that he hoped looked reassuring.

Louise let out a groan and allowed her head to fall and clank down onto her metal workstation, allowing the cool surface to try and soothe the headache she knew would be soon to come, and it wasn't going to be from her head hitting a hard surface.

"Oh Greg please no, he last time I worked some DNA for him, he made me re-run the results 5 times and then he practically took over my lab! I know where everything is, he mucks everything about and moves things and I have to put everything back in order! Last time I was just about allowed to keep my computer and my microscope!" Lou whined, turning her head towards her friend of two years. About to continue with her rant of Sherlock induced pity, when she was interrupted by the text tone of Greg's phone.

"Please tell me that's not him." She begged, pleading to Greg with her eyes, and as if like magic the double doors sprung open and she heard the unfortunately familiar quickened pace of the aforementioned Mr Holmes.

"I'm afraid it is me Miss Bell, but the text was not from myself actually, George probably has to rush off to some utterly boring crime scene I should imagine." Sherlock retaliated, glancing over to Lestrade who was currently proving him right, as the Detective started making his way towards the door.

"Sorry Lou, he's right, got to go; homicide in Camden." He explained with a wave of his hand, leaving the scientist and the consulting detective alone in Louise's lab.

"Yay. More work for me later!" She muttered sarcastically, before turning her head on the table to face her reluctantly accepted lab-guest.

"So Miss Bell, where's my comparison?" Sherlock asked, or rather demanded of her in his usual abrupt fashion.

Louise resisted the urge to roll her eyes, sat up and crossed her arms in front of her. "In the queue, your samples aren't the only ones to go through my lab you know, I've got all of the Day-Shift of Scotland Yard's cases to get through too you know." She replied, a mix of frustration and repetition laced in her voice.

"So you keep telling me, you really should allow me to lend my services on the rare occasion that I do come down to grace _your_ lab with my presence, so much more work would get done and I'd get my DNA back quicker." He said, turning his attention to the test tubes on the metallic worktop behind Louise. As he was about to pick one up and examine it, Louise span on her chair and slapped his hand away before he could get the chance. "You really are quite like a bitch marking her territory, you know." He muttered, flashing a quick knowing smile.

Picking up the entire rack of the tubed substances, she twirled back around and placed it beside her computer.

"A bitch I may be, but from Monday to Friday, this lab _is_ mine, and I'd appreciate it if you wouldn't hijack _my _lab again." She enforced, standing up and poking him in the chest with her index finger, as a comparison flashed up on the screen; the words '**NO MATCH' **emblazoned upon it. "And I'd never let you touch a single sample in this room, there is such a thing as chain of evidence, _you know._" Louise finished, throwing his words back at him as she sat back down, pushing her wheelie chair over towards the landline, dialling an extension and letting the respective detective know of the results that had just come in on their case, this particular one was for Collins or Carlton or something, wasn't a nice guy, so she didn't care to remember his name. Wheeling back over to her computer, she tapped a few buttons to send the printout to the main Scotland Yard building.

"There you go Mr Holmes; your results should be after the next set." She smiled sarcastically, taking her test tubes and wheeling herself to her chemical table.

"New shoes hurting you then." Sherlock spoke up, glancing at Louise's skull and crossbones patterned socks before taking a seat on one of the stools dotted around the lab.

"Very astute of you Mr Holmes, I can see why they regard you so highly around here." She scoffed, taking a pipette and adding hydrochloric acid to the leftmost test tube.

"I could deduce you if you wish, in fact I have deduced you, however every time I do try to present my observations out loud you stick your fingers in your ears and sing obnoxiously loudly." He retorted, setting off the Newton's Cradle on her desk.

"I've never doubted your brilliance Holmes, word of mouth is good enough for me, and also I'd rather not inflate your already gargantuan sized ego. I already know my life story, I don't need to be told the abbreviated version." She defended with a shrug.

Sherlock rolled his eyes, muttering under his breath. "Typical hostile Essex girl."

Louise merely narrowed her eyes at him and set aside her chemistry implements, before slipping her old pair of shoes on and grabbing her tattered old leather jacket. She reached into her pocket, pulling out a packet of 20 Chesterfield Red cigarettes.

"You coming? There's still 10 minutes left until the next lot of results will be done processing and I'd rather you didn't get bored again in here." Lou suggested, shaking the box slightly, allowing the cigarettes and lighter to rattle around.

"Thought you'd never ask." Sherlock gave a smile, walking up to her, taking the box and strode ahead of her towards the back exit.

Quickly swiping her keycard to lock the room behind her, she caught up with him and leaned on the wall beside him, taking the pack back from him, finding he'd already helped himself, had lit up and was already puffing away. Lighting her own cigarette, she breathed in the wonderful familiar nicotine cocktail.

"This is why I tolerate you Miss Bell, you do have one redeeming feature, you actually allow me to smoke in peace." Sherlock stated, whilst expelling the smoke from his lungs.

"Charming as ever Mr Holmes" She chuckled, before taking another drag, flicking some ash towards Sherlock's shoes and missing her intended target and continued. "What can I say, you're a grown man, who can make his own decisions regarding the state of his own lungs."

"A perfectly logical conclusion I must say." He replied. The pair fell into a comfortable silence after that, finishing their cigarettes after about 5 more minutes, they made their way back to Louise's lab.

**If you think this is even mildly okay, do let me know and squiggle me up a review, I also greatly appreciate constructive criticism, so come at me with your knowledge nuggets, please and thank you!**

**DeathFrizbee**


	2. The Bells

****Yet again, I own nothing at all, except Louise and her family, thought I'd just post a quick short chapter to introduce her as a human being, do enjoy!** **

**The Bells**

Louise Bell was a simple sort of person, for the most part, all she needed, all she ever really needed in the world was to be surrounded by her family and friends.

However. Money was nice. Her family understood the value of money and they never let the well run dry, there was never an opportunity for it to run dry, which had been seen to six years ago. Louise's dad was the best of the best at what he did. He would have done anything for his girls, moved the moon and mountains to see that they were happy, and still would, should a problem ever arise.

Darren Bell didn't see himself as a criminal, the extracurricular activities he once had partaken in in his youth (and occasionally came out of retirement for) was what he liked to call 'Robin Hooding'. The classic tale of taking from the rich and giving to the poor. Though he had gone straight years ago, back when Louise had just turned 21, he was an excellent conman, but needed to be there for his family.

He always said that he'd give up the game when he could properly provide for his family and keep them comfortable, which he had achieved. Happy with his lot in life, Darren smiled as he heard his daughter laugh on the other end of the line.

"Honestly dad, I swear I'm nearly on the verge of a mental breakdown every time he decides to come swanning into my lab! He's got this ridiculous thing he does where he touches my stuff, and you know how I get if everything's not in its proper place! And! To top it all off when he eventually got his results, they didn't match and he acted like a child throwing his toys out of the pram, before storming off and angrily muttering about not being able to trust saliva." Lou chuckled, fiddling with the curled telephone wire, taking a swig of her tea, happy to be telling her dad about how the events of the day panned out.

"Sounds like he's keeping you on your toes sweetheart, you know what I always say, make sure you're always kept on your toes-" Darren started, before getting cut off.

"-Because you'll never know when you'll have to scarper! I couldn't forget it if I tried, it's been ingrained into my brain since the age of 10. However, the family motto is quite redundant, seeing as it's been 5 years since I last picked a lock or cracked a safe. No scarpering for me, thank you very much daddy-dearest." Louise smiled, recalling the training sessions with her father at the tender age of 13, learning all about the different types of safes and locks.

"5 years?" Her father questioned. "Shouldn't it be 6?" He accused, with a slight hint of amusement in his voice.

A smirk spread across Louise's face. "What can I say, I was a struggling Uni student, and my then-manager was a grade A knob jockey. But don't worry dad, half of all profits commandeered was given to various charities." She explained, taking another gulp of tea.

"That's my girl." Darren beamed, "Anyway, I'll let you get on with whatever you had planned for the rest of the evening, and do try and pop in to come and have a visit when you can, don't be a stranger. Love you Poppet."

"Love you too dad, give my love to Mum and Becca, I'll try and make it down next week." Louise grinned, as she put the phone back on the hook. Some time back in Essex would be just what the doctor ordered.

Finishing her cup of tea, which her mother lovingly referred to as 'Milky Piss Water' on account of how weak she drank it, she carried the mug over to the sink, rinsing it out and placing it on the draining board. Looking to the kitchen clock, she decided that 8.37 was far too early to go to bed, she could however go and try on her new pyjamas and get comfortable.

Slippered feet shuffling into her bedroom, she made a beeline for the Asda bag sitting on her reading chair and pulled out the bundle of soft fluffy fabric and proceeded to try it on, heading for the mirror.

She grinned widely at the sight of her newly procured brown and pink Hedgehog adorned PJs, approving of the way it hung on her curved, 5ft4 and a half frame loosely. She pulled her tight ponytail out, letting her slightly wavy dyed black hair to fall to just above shoulder length; she ran a hand quickly through it to loosen it from its ponytail-moulded shape.

Louise's light blue eyes scanned her hair in meticulously with great detail, after deciding that her natural mousy brown roots would have to be eradicated immediately, and would have to buy some Live Colour XXL the next day.

The next feature under scrutiny was the baggage under her eyes, _'Maybe an 8.37 bedtime was called for after all?'_ she thought to herself. She had a fair complexion as it was, always had and the dark circles under her eyes were not helping in any way. _"Pale as Casper the Friendly bloody Ghost you are girl!"_ Her dad used to joke affectionately.

Having had enough of assessing her physical appearance for one night, she stretched and made her way over to the CD tower in the corner of her room. After a whole minute's deliberation, she settled on The Smiths' album 'The Queen is Dead', a personal favourite of hers, as influenced from birth by her mother.

Placing the CD in the player, she skipped straight to 'Big Mouth Strikes Again', humming along as she plucked Michael J. Fox's autobiography 'Lucky Man' from her bookshelf.

Relaxing herself into her reading chair, she couldn't help but let out a sigh of contentment. Life was good. She was happy. She loved her job. She had amazing friends and the most wonderfully supportive family. At this particular moment in time, she wouldn't have changed anything. Not for all the money in the world.

**Would just like to say a massive thank you to Ladey Jezzabella who at this moment in time is my first and only reviewer, thank you for the feedback and it's been taken into account and put in my mind palace for future and present reference! And thank you to anyone who's read this already and followed, you're all totally awesome!**  
**If you'd care to quickly scribble me a review, I'd be very thankful **

**DeathFrizbee**


	3. Of The Smiths and Cacti

****Believe it or not, I still own nothing, fancy that!****

**Of The Smiths and Cacti**

Louise juggled with her black messenger bag and flask of coffee to try and retrieve her key card from her well-worn jacket pocket. Now a normal person would have put their bag down on the floor to easily pull the card from her obstacle of a pocket quite easily. She however was not a normal person and that would have been far too simple for her.

After another good 30 seconds or so, struggling with herself, she managed to reach the object of her current desire and swipe it without ever spilling her coffee at all.

Pushing one of the doors open with her shoulder, she moved over to the coat hooks, set her bag away, proceeding to remove her jacket and replace it with her crisp white lab coat, 2 year old ID card hanging from the breast pocket, embroidered just above the pocket was her name, which she smiled at every time, it did make her feel somewhat important.

Turning around and flicking the lights on, she shrieked as illuminated in front of her, at her desk was the annoyingly recognizable lanky frame and mess of dark curls that she'd unfortunately grown accustomed to every now and again in her lab.

"For the love of all that is good and fucking holy, how and why the fuck are you in my fucking lab?! You nearly gave me a bloody heart attack!" Lou all but screamed, her heart still pounding from finding the intrusion of the infamous consulting detective who had previously sat waiting in the dark in her lab, which she was pretty sure she locked last night.

"I left my scarf here." Sherlock justified with a slight shrug of his shoulders. "I did rather think you were a morning person, so I got here around 5.00, after 10 minutes I assumed you weren't going to make an appearance anytime soon so I took it upon myself to let myself in. I hacked the security system; dreadfully easily, I might add. You may want to speak with someone about an upgrade." He finished, looking disturbingly pleased with himself.

Louise merely stood there flabbergasted for a few seconds before walking over to her desk and leaning on it, looking Sherlock dead in the eye.

"Did you move anything?" Was the first thing to come out of her mouth, eyes quickly scanning the layout of the room, giving it a quick once over, agitatedly blowing her dark side fringe out of her eyes.

"I didn't touch a thing; I've just been sat here thinking, as I do. The last time I moved something you started doing that high pitched squeaky speed-talking thing. It was extremely irritating." Sherlock answered, removing himself from Louise's chair and starting off the Newton's Cradle once more.

"Idonotdoahighpitchedsqueakything!" Louise blurted out, unable to stop herself, which only rewarded her with a smug '_oh really'_ look from Sherlock which aggravated her to no end. Stopping the cradle, she perched herself at the edge of her desk as the constantly concentrating faced detective was staring intently at her cactus experiments.

"Sometimes, just sometimes I want to smash your stupid face in." Lou smiled sweetly, before bringing her coffee to her lips and taking a sip, welcoming the much needed caffeine.

"Irrational and illogical, if anything my face is the face of great intelligence." He retorted, picking up the clipboard located beside the cacti and reading through the experiment log.

"No, Mr Holmes, your brain holds the intelligence; you don't even really need your face that much. It's pointy and angular and I'm not going to lie, I've wanted to poke it in the past for the sheer curiosity of wanting to know just exactly how far your cheekbones protrude from your face." She shrugged, not at all surprised by the direction the conversation was currently going in.

"You've been listening to The Smiths again haven't you Miss Bell?" Sherlock stated, rather than questioned, not tearing his eyes away from the clipboard as he flipped to the next page.

"Bitch I might have been…" Louise mumbled to herself, walking over to him and pulling the clipboard from his hands. "Do you mind? My experiment isn't ready to be observed by other actual human beings at this point in time." She said, shooing him away from her experiment so as he wouldn't be quite as tempted to touch her cacti.

Sherlock merely ignored her though and strode right back over to the plant life, crouching down so he was eye level to the botany.

"You always get slightly more irritated, and/or curious when you listen to The Smiths. It suits you. Makes you seem less dull, I'd prescribe lots more of Morrissey's depressive tones, rather that incessant droning of Michael Bublé that you for some reason insist on playing in the lab." Sherlock finally finished, poking the cactus delicately with a pen, to which Louise slapped him upside the head to stop his prodding.

"Firstly, you leave my Bubble-man alone, he's got the voice of an angel!" Lou defended. "Secondly, stop fiddling with my plants. Don't you have cases you could and should be working on?" She asked, raising her eyebrow and tapping her foot, her impatiens quickly growing.

"Solved it already, boring. Far too easy and there are no more interesting cases to be had, I just need a nice quadruple homicide or something to tide me over…" He ground out, getting just as agitated as she was by his being in the lab.

"Then go home Mr Holmes, go do whatever it is you do when you have spare time." She demanded softly, already exasperated, strolling over to the door and opening it for him, gesturing to the corridor.

"Can't." He stated simply, not moving from his position in the centre of the lab.

"Can't? What do you mean can't?" Louise sighed, letting go of the door and pinching the bridge of her nose.

"Noxious gasses are currently occupying my flat, a slight underestimation on my part I regret to admit, though I have correctly estimated that the gasses should dissipate completely in 3-5 days." Sherlock stated simply as if it was the most normal explanation in the world. Lou couldn't help but shake her head; a home was no place to be experimenting with noxious gasses.

"Mr Holmes, I don't think you're going to have a flat to go back to in 3-5 days! There's no way any landlord in their right mind would keep you as a tenant after a stunt like that!" She explained, wide eyed at his inability to grasp the mind-set of the non-criminal population.

Sherlock furrowed his eyebrows at that, realising he hadn't taken into account there were other people in the block of flats, he didn't particularly care how they thought of him or his early hours experiments, however he realised they could and would take action with the realisation they've got noxious gasses sealed in the flat above, below and around them. Looking towards Louise, he found the only thing that managed to escape him was a look of realisation and a downtrodden, "Oh."

Louise knew she was going to regret her suggestion the second it came out of her mouth, yet decided to open her trap anyway.

"You said you didn't really sleep if you have something to work on, as I recall. If you wanted, I could hire you personally to continue research on my cactus samples through the nights, if you'd like." She offered, moving back towards the beanpole of a man and handing him back the clipboard. "Just until you find another flat." She finished with a small, sympathetic smile.

"Why?" He responded quickly, taking back the research notes and flipping through them once again.

"Because I've been told I'm a nice person, and I can't in good conscience let you go walk abouts around London every night aimlessly, you're liable to get bored, piss someone off and get the shit kicked out of you." She chuckled, playing that mental image play in her head for a second before reaching into her pocket, and throwing him her nearly empty pack of cigarettes.

"C'mon, we'll go have a fag and I'll brief you on what I'm doing with the cactus DNA." Lou smiled, grabbing her coat and making for the back exit as they always did.

"Very resourceful and opportunistic of you Miss Bell, almost commendable traits." Was all Sherlock said, following her box of Chesterfields in hand. That was as close to gratitude Louise was going to get and she understood that.

"You're welcome Sherlock." She shook her head, opening the back door to go and smoke.

**Thank you to all my shiny new followers, you kind of rock and I'm glad I'm not a complete failure, so yay me! **

**Do leave a quick scribble to tell me how I'm doing or if you think I'm able to improve in any way, it'd mean a lot!**

DeathFrizbee


	4. Duvet Day

****Well believe it or not, I still own nothing, it's been a whole day and nothing's changed, who'd have thunk it!****

**Duvet Day**

It had been three days since the arrangement between Louise and Sherlock had started. So far, it had worked like a dream, she was able to get on with her Scotland Yard work in relatively peaceful conditions, while Sherlock busied himself and kept himself content and occupied with the study of mutated cactus DNA.

Today just so happened to have been Louise's day off, and though she loved her work, there were days where it was nice to just have some time not thinking about samples and comparisons and the disgusting criminal activities that were constantly occurring throughout London every day.

Still dressed in her comfy pyjamas, she took her bedding away from her room and organized it on her soft gray sofa in the living room, immediately snuggling into it, readying herself to commence her first duvet day and _Castle _marathon in far too long.

Louise loved practically any sort of crime drama. To be honest, it was a partial reason to which she decided to get into forensics in the first place (not that she'd ever admit that to anyone). _Castle, NCIS, Psych, Bones, Law and Order, _and _Criminal Minds_ all factored into her ultimate decision.

About five episodes into Series 2 of the aforementioned show she was marathoning, she felt her stomach groaning in want of sustenance, and in the true spirit of a duvet day, ordered Chinese food rather than cooking for herself.

About fifteen minutes later, she heard a knock at her door and begrudgingly managed to tear herself off the sofa, grabbing the money on the way. She pulled her dark green painted front door open, to find that it wasn't her usual little old Chinese delivery lady as she was expecting, the nice little old lady who she always tipped. It wasn't her food order at all, stood before her was undeniable presence of Sherlock Holmes, fully equipped with his coat, scarf and a brown parcel under his arm.

"You're not my Chinese." Lou blinked, slightly bewildered by the fact that he had materialized on her doorstep.

"As astute as ever Miss Bell. This came for you at the lab." Sherlock explained, inviting himself into the flat and striding straight in. "You may want to open it sooner rather than later."

"I… Just… What are you doing here and how the hell do you know where I live exactly?!" She questioned, shutting the door and turning to him, crossing her arms in front of her.

"I already told you, a package arrived for you at the lab, do keep up. As for your address, your computer isn't exactly Fort Knox, your password is SAFECRACK, I know normal people carry a sense of sentimentality, but given your family history I would have thought you'd be a little more discreet." Sherlock rolled his eyes, wanting her to stop all the meaningless chit chat and get to the good bit. Though Louise merely looked to him in horror.

"I could have opened the fucking package at work when I got there tomorrow; it's my poxy day off!" She groaned, not being able to deal with Sherlock's anything when she wasn't even supposed to be working. She strode to her coffee table, picking up her cigarettes and lighting one up quickly, trying to relax herself, but to no avail. "And who the bloody hell do you think you are?! Do you have any kind of regard at all for a person's privacy? Oh wait, I forgot who I was talking to!" Lou let out an exasperated sigh. "What's so important about this fucking package then?" She finished, taking a seat back on the sofa and pulling the ashtray towards her.

"Finally the halfwit's asking the right question!" He exclaimed with a clap of his hand, plopping himself on the armchair on the opposite side of the coffee table, deciding to ignore the rest of her rant and just focusing on the relevant question, to which Lou merely narrowed her eyes at him, exhaling a stream of smoke.

"You know it's true what they say." He continued, "You can take the girl out of Essex but you can't take the Essex out of the girl." Sherlock smirked, attempting to provoke a reaction, though the package was of the utmost importance, he could still have his fun and rapport with the scientist before him.

"Too bloody right you can't!" She beamed with pride. "I'm Thurrock born and bred! Southend-on-Sea just a short train journey away. The home of Lakeside Shopping Centre and Grays F.C.! I'm proud of where I come from Sherlock Holmes and don't you forget it!" She grinned ear to ear, recalling her hometown with great pride.

Sherlock's face dropped slightly, applying the thought for later that he'd have to make a revised deduction of Miss Bell with the newly acquired information. She however was veering off topic when there was an interesting case about to unfold.

"As much as I enjoyed your little speech of patriotic hometown pride." Sherlock snapped sarcastically, "We do have other matters to discuss, such as the fact that a package with no return address and no obvious ways of tracing it back to a sender is carrying within it a full set of teeth." He finally managed to reveal.

"Oh! So now you've been snooping through my post too! It's really not all that supri-…" Louise was about to go off on another rant but quickly stopped herself, realising the gravity of what he had just said. "… Did you just say teeth? As in, human teeth?" She asked, her eyes growing wide in disgust.

"I didn't open it, I made a deduction… Apparently opening someone else's post is a 'felony'" Sherlock said, with full use of air quotes, growing evermore agitated. "I couldn't tell from just rattling about, so would you just open the damn thing already." He demanded with a condescending smile, pushing the package on the coffee table towards her.

"Uh uh no way, no how, you can't just tell me there's a package that's likely filled with human teeth and expect me to open it in a gleeful manner! That's disgusting, you bloody well open it!" She counteracted, pushing the box back to him with one finger.

Sherlock couldn't help but allow his eyes to roll once more. "For a forensisist you're rather annoyingly squeamish." He commented as he went to work on undoing the tape sealing the top.

"Hey, I deal with blood, saliva, semen and fingerprints! I don't do actual parts! I like being in a sterile lab for a reason!" She defended, drawing her knees up to her chin, watching him intently as he opened the box.

Much to her dismay, he carefully pulled out a Ziploc back of what looked to be a mix of mashed up teeth fragments, blood and saliva. Though to look at Sherlock, you'd think he was a fat kid in a chocolate factory. He unleashed a grin that she hadn't seen him wear before, as he spoke, carefully raising the bag level to his eyes.

"I do believe you should get dressed Miss Bell, we need to get back to the lab. The game may very well be on."

**I would just like to say a massive, huge thank you to everyone who's followed and favorited this fic already, it really does mean a lot, to Lunabloodmoon666, thank you for your review and I'm glad that you like my characters you'll definitely be seeing more of the Bell family in the future! **

**DeathFrizbee**


	5. The Taxi Ride

****Well here we are again, and I still don't own anything of the BBC's, what a pity.** **

**The Taxi Ride**

Having got dressed quicker than Louise had ever thought possible, she beelined for the door, grabbing her keys on the way out, not bothering with a jacket to cover her long-sleeved black hooded 'Team Bell'T-shirt, the first thing she could find in the busy haze of clothing.

Racing downstairs she joined Sherlock on the pavement outside her flat, who had miraculously already managed to have hailed a cab. Clambering into the taxi, Louise pulled her phone from the back pocket of her black jeans and flipped through her contacts.

She found Lestrade's number and hit dial, seeing as she had learned that Sherlock hadn't informed the proper authorities through the proper channels of his grisly discovery. It rang a few times before it went to voicemail, but Louise knew he had a shedload of his own cases to be getting on with, but decided to leave a message just in case.

"Hey Greg, it's Lou, um we've had a bit of a situation pop up in the lab, someone kind of sent me some human teeth along with some blood and saliva in the post, so we're headed back to the lab now. If you could ring me or get to the lab as soon as you can, that'd be great. Bye." Louise explained, running a hand through her hair and sighing.

Looking to Sherlock, she couldn't help but let out a small chuckle of exasperated amusement at the man who was holding the box of teeth on his lap as if it were as normal as a box of cupcakes or a bag of grocery shopping. Sherlock turned his head slightly towards Louise in mild puzzlement.

"Who's Greg? Why does he need to know the contents of your lovely little gift here?" He asked, turning his attention back to the package and rooting through the box in search of anything else noteworthy within its four walls.

Louise shook her head slightly at the blatant stupidity of the genius that sat beside her.

"Greg is Lestrade you dingbat." She explained, leaning her head back against the seat. "What are you even looking for in there?" Lou continued, raising a curious eyebrow.

Ignoring her 'dingbat' comment, Sherlock proceeded to feel the inside walls of cardboard box for any sorts of hints, clues or evidence as to who the mystery package could have possibly been from. He stopped dead and allowed a small smile for himself when he felt a slight corner raised from the bottom of the box, underneath the bubble wrap. Peeling away the camouflage of the stuck-down brown paper, it revealed a small sheet of generic A4 lined paper that had been torn in half.

"This Miss Bell, is exactly what I was looking for." He murmured, reading it over a good four or five times before deciding to hand it over to her.

"Sweetness, Sweetness I was only joking when I said I'd like to mash every tooth in your head…" Louise read out loud, slowing as the meaning unwrapped itself in her brain, realisation dawning upon her. "That… That's a Smiths song." She managed to stutter out.

"Well there's no need to be such a babbling wreck about it Miss Bell, this is brilliant! All the tell-tale signs of a serial killer!" Sherlock exclaimed excitedly, a grin managing to stretch across his pointed features.

"Bigmouth Strikes Again…" Louise continued, declaring the name of the song, going slightly numb as the truth set in that she had been denying that a potential serial killer knew who she was and let out a shaky breath.

"Excuse me?" Sherlock looked to her, nonplussed, but looking as if he was itching to get back to the lab more than ever now.

"Bigmouth Strikes Again. It's the name of the song the lyrics are from. Though at this particular junction of time, it's perfectly suited to you, you tactless and insensitive arse! A fucking serial killer knows who I am, where I work, and you're acting like a kid at Christmas!" She all but exploded to him, not finding the prospect nearly as fun as he currently was.

"Oh do compose yourself will you! This is far more exciting than Cactus DNA, and you're getting hung up over the fact that someone may want to murder you and extract your teeth? Well… From the amount of blood in the bag, it's more likely done the other way round, but still, can't you feel it?" Sherlock burst with excitement, while the scientist merely blinked back at him in response as the taxi pulled up to the lab.

Ejecting himself from the seat and out of the cab with a flurry of unexpected lanky gracefulness, he ran around to the other side of the car and opened the door for Louise, a frantic look in his normally calm and collected blue eyes and a smile tugging on his lips.

"The game, Miss Bell, is on!"

**I know, I know it's short, but it's necessary, and I'll try to start writing longer chapters. Or I can carry on doing shorter chapters more frequently, leave me a review to tell me what you think please, help me to help you, if you'd be so kind!**

**DeathFrizbee **


	6. Psychopathic Dentists and Stalkers

****Well hello friends, just a quick reminder to say that I own nothing and never will!****

**Psychopathic Dentists and Stalkers**

After a full 15 minutes after entering the lab, Louise had put a sample of the blood and saliva cocktail into her processor, awaiting a possible hit on the database, if even to at least find out who the poor soul was that had their teeth unwillingly extracted.

Sherlock however was sitting on his now regular stool, holding the note in his hand and mumbling possible personality profiles under his breath. The only two that Louise had managed to strain to hear were 'psychopathic dentist' and 'perverted guitarist'.

Time had apparently decided to move at an unforgivably slow pace on this particularly grim and macabre of days and Louise found herself with nothing better to do than to examine the note herself from over Sherlock's shoulder.

"Stop that. It's annoying." Sherlock stated after about ten seconds of her hovering behind him.

"I have to wait for the analysis to process and I don't have anything else to do. You haven't come up with anything aside from 'psychopathic dentist' in fifteen minutes and this is not a re-enactment of _Little Shop of Horrors, _so give it to me!" Lou persisted, plucking the note from his fingers.

"I'd say I never took you for the impatient type, but that would be a lie." He muttered under his breath.

Louise had heard him, but rather than acknowledging the insult and getting into an argument, she 'accidentally' on purpose slapped him upside the head as she turned away from him, looking to the angrily scrawled lyrics on the page.

"And passive aggressive…" He continued, turning on his stool, scanning the young woman who could have been burning a hole through the page with the intensity of her gaze. Deciding to ignore him yet again, she spoke up.

"It's just a weird coincidence…" Louise said more to herself than Sherlock, before turning back to face him, still staring at the lined sheet. "I mean, I was just listening to this the other day; in fact, I listen to it most days after work, it's always the first song on the album I pick…" She trailed off, before getting startled by the sound of metal scraping on the floor as Sherlock all but leapt from it.

"That's it!" He exclaimed, grabbing the scientist before him by the shoulders and turning them a 180⁰. "He's a stalker! He knows the ins and outs of your daily schedule, where you work, where you live, where you like to eat! Even down to the insignificant and mundane things such as your depressing taste in music!" Sherlock rabbited on, his verbal train of thought running at full velocity, not noticing Lestrade entering the lab. "But why chose now to make his move? What triggered his psychological break to move up from lowly stalker to full blown killer, must have been a change in your day to day life, he's obviously trying to impress you with extended knowledge of your favourite band; in the only way he knows how to! Violence Miss Bell, violence! So possible military, someone who has a history of violent crimes maybe, or even someone in the security line of work, highly likely something along the lines of a bouncer!" He was grinning widely as he let go of Louise, taking the bag of teeth and attempting to profile the stalker even further with this new information.

Louise merely stood glued to the spot, flabbergasted and unable to process the information that had just been relayed to her at Sherlock's mile a minute deductive speech.

"Hey Lou, you alright? I got your message and had some samples that needed bringing down so I thought I'd bring them in myself… You're looking a bit peaky." Greg spoke up, not fully aware of the situation and only having walked in on the second half of Sherlock's lightning speed one-sided conversation.

Louise turned on the spot slowly to face Lestrade, walking towards him, leaving Sherlock to his own devices. "Peaky? _Peaky_?! You'd look bloody peaky too if you had a box of teeth mailed to your workplace, along with a threatening letter!" She snapped at him in agitation, carrying on. "So to answer your question, no I'm not 'alright', as you so stupidly put it!" She let out the breath that she didn't know she'd been holding and shook her head, her black hair draping itself in front of her face slightly.

"It's all a bit fucked up Greg." She laughed nervously, as Lestrade placed a hand on her shoulder and pulled her into a sideways hug.

"S'alright Lou, probably just a weirdo with too much time on their hands is all! Once you've done your tests and Sherlock does his brainbox thing, it might just turn out to be someone's idea of a sick practical joke." He tried to comfort her, giving her shoulder a reassuring squeeze before releasing her.

"Wrong." Sherlock piped up from his corner of the room, looking at one of the tooth fragments held within a pair of tweezers. "These teeth were hammered out of someone's mouth, a woman's I'd say, the teeth have been whitened at least three times, not a smoker, so more likely a frequent coffee drinker." He continued, ignoring the pair in front of him. "Quite brutal work."

"Did you just say hammered?" Louise asked quietly, turning a paler shade of white. "Ergh that's disgusting, I think I'm going to puke…" She grimaced, pulling a disgusted face.

"I don't see why you should feel that way, in this line of work you ought to be quite used to it." He chipped in, not removing his gaze from the fragment.

"I'm a lab technician Sherlock, not a poxy crime scene investigator; I don't do the gore or the grizzly details! I stay in my lab where it's safe, sterile and theoretically free from murderers and psychopaths!" She explained, returning to her chair in front of the computer; which happened to have been flashing up with '**NO MATCH IN DATABASE**'. To which she responded by slamming her head repeatedly on the keyboard.

"If you're in the middle of a mental breakdown, please proceed to do so quietly Louise, I'm trying to concentrate." Sherlock muttered, now examining the tooth shard under his retractable magnifying glass.

Lou lifted her head slowly from the keyboard, a couple of the lettered tiles sticking to her forehead in the process, unbeknownst to her. "Since when do you call me Louise?" Was the only response she could muster up, with the current state of her mind.

"Since you called me Sherlock. Funny how the likelihood of impending death brings out the informality in people, wouldn't you agree? And before you start shouting profanities at me, know that the lettering on your forehead is probably an accurate representation of your 'feelings' right now." He explained, looking away from the tooth for a split second to flash her a shit-eating grin before returning to the evidence once again.

"What are you…?" She half asked before looking down at the metallic surface below her to find the letters 'F' and 'U' were planted firmly where her fringe would usually reside. "Son of a-″ she was cut off before she could finish by Lestrade's text tone going off.

Greg looked to his phone, opened the message and read it quickly before running a hand through his hair. "Female homicide in Chelsea. All her teeth missing, just been called in." Lestrade recapped sombrely, looking to Louise who appeared to be fighting the urge to vomit.

"Excellent!" Sherlock exclaimed, leaping from the stool. "Come along Louise, we've got a crime scene to examine!" He demanded in morbid glee.

Louise merely groaned in response before reaching under the table and expelling the contents of her stomach into it. '_Oh yes' _she thought, '_this is going to be a very long night'_.

**Well if you've reached this chapter, thank you very much for sticking with the slow start, things ****_should_**** hopefully pick up pace from here! Please to leave me a review, help me to help you and let me know if you think there's things I should be improving on! Many thanks, **

**DeathFrizbee**


	7. The Elevator

****Hello friends, it is I, chapter 7 and I still own nothing, drat!****

**The Elevator**

Louise looked up at the staggeringly tall hotel building, which must have been at least 30 floors high. Too elegant and posh to be considered a tower block, yet not of such magnitude to be called a skyscraper.

"Why the fuck am I here again? I don't want to be here, why have you dragged me here?" She demanded an answer, not moving a muscle from the pavement, placing a hand on her hip, tapping her foot in irritation, with an exhausted scowl on her face. She was tired, hungry and feeling extremely underdressed in her hoodie and jeans, watching the rich Chelsea Friday nightlife pass her by.

Sherlock stopped just short of the revolving doors and gave her an exasperated sigh. "Because, the message was for you, so the killer obviously made the crime scene for you. It's like a gift, so you just have to suck it up and accept it. Plus you being there, you may be able to shed some light on evidence that may be specifically directed to you. I could have sworn I'd already gone through all this in the taxi." He explained matter of factly.

Louise huffed in a childlike manner and begrudgingly shoved her way past Sherlock in through the revolving doors, not at all taking to the concept of seeing a crime scene up close and personal. "What floor was it again?" She asked timidly.

"The 30th. Why the sudden change in demeanour? Scared of heights?" He smirked, pressing the button to call the elevator and taking a step back to wait for it.

"No actually. I love heights. I love to abseil and flying is my favourite thing in the world, plane travel is quite wonderful!" Lou defended, applying an air of false confidence, puffing out her chest a bit and raising her chin slightly as the elevator 'dinged' and opened; she walked through with purpose now as if she had something to prove, Sherlock following suit with a knowing smile.

Louise pressed the button for the 30th floor and took a deep breath in as the door closed.

"Claustrophobia then." He chuckled lightly, figuring he'd sussed her fear out.

"No, you arse." She snapped through gritted teeth, gripping the side bar of the lift tightly, her knuckles turning extremely white from the pressure and tapped her thumb on the bar to the droning of the elevator music.

They rode the lift in silence, that was until all of a sudden it ground to a shuddering halt, the music stopping and the lights cutting out.

"No no no no fuck no no." Louise chanted, dropping to the floor like a sack of potatoes and held her head between her hands. "It's okay, it'll be okay, someone will come and fix it, and we're not going to fall…" She continued under her breath, attempting to reassure herself.

"Oh of course, just a fear of elevators then, not just any old confined space. I'll bet good money that you got stuck in one as a child, I'm going to say 7 years old." He deduced, ignoring the heap of nerves on the floor. "Do compose yourself will you, the odds of us plummeting to our untimely deaths is rather slim."

"You're not helping at all you motherfucking self-absorbed worthless piece of shit, you're an egotistical fucking cunt." Louise barked out through sobs as she felt a panic attack coming on. Closing her eyes even tighter, she tried to think happy thoughts, but to no avail as the presence of the man she'd just verbally attacked was very noticeable in the atmosphere. "S-sorry…" Was all she managed to wrestle from her vocal chords, as all of a sudden the lights and music reappeared, with the lift remaining stationary.

Though this however did not prove to be of any comfort to Lou, as the previous instrumental music had been replaced with something far more sinister.

_'Sweetness, sweetness I was only joking  
When I said I'd like to  
Smash every tooth in your head_

Sweetness, sweetness I was only joking  
When I said by rights you should be  
Bludgeoned in your bed'

She felt a familiar tightness on her chest as she struggled to breathe. Attempting to grasp for air, she found her efforts to be futile, as every shallow, quick breath made her feel all the more sick and dizzy.

_'And now I know how Joan of Arc felt  
Now I know how Joan of Arc felt  
As the flames rose to her Roman nose  
And her Walkman started to melt'_

Louise jumped slightly as she felt a hand on her back, obviously Sherlock's as he rubbed it in circles soothingly.

"Slow your breathing to one breath every five seconds." Sherlock advised, seeming rather unamused and irritated by the inconvenience of her ailment.

_'Bigmouth la la la la la, bigmouth la la la la  
Bigmouth strikes again  
And I've got no right to take my place  
With the human race'_

"I-I-I Can't." She managed to choke out after giving the technique a try, her throat and chest aching more with each attempt.

Sherlock rolled his eyes at her response and took her hands from the sides of her head. He placed one hand on her stomach, just below her ribs and the other on her chest, proceeding to remove his own hands from hers.

"Take a deep breath through your nose. As you inhale, let your stomach push your hand out, but keep your chest still." He instructed. The last thing he wanted to be doing was playing therapist or nurse to the forensic scientist that sat before him. He'd much rather have been with the body and getting on with the investigation, but he figured the young Miss Bell would have been no use to him at all, if she'd have passed out.

'_And now I know how Joan of Arc felt  
Now I know of Joan of Arc felt  
As the flames rose to her Roman nose  
And her hearing aid started to melt'_

Louise followed the advice given to her and found that slowly but surely her breathing was returning back to almost its natural rhythm.

Removing her hands from her chest and belly, she wiped the tears from her eyes and brushed the mess of hair that had gathered in front of her face back behind her ears. She grabbed a hold of the side railing of the lift and pulled herself up, experiencing a slight head rush as she did.

_'Bigmouth la la la la la, bigmouth la la la la  
Bigmouth strikes again  
And I've got no right to take my place  
With the human race'_

Shuffling on her feet slightly and biting the inside of her cheek, she finally spoke up. "Thanks for that. You know. Sorting me out." Lou mumbled, looking forwards towards the doors.

"No problem at all. I often have to deal with women losing their breath when locked in a small room with me." Sherlock smirked, looking towards the forward facing Louise, who turned her head to meet his gaze, before the both of them burst out into a fit of laughter.

"The great Sherlock Holmes, cracking jokes! Whatever will people say?!" She exclaimed, her laughter fading into minor chuckles.

"When the mood suits me I've been told I can be quite humorous." He smiled, turning to face the door again.

_'Sweetness, sweetness I was only joking  
When I said I'd like to  
Smash every tooth in your head'_

"Sorry again. For calling you a cunt." Louise apologized sheepishly, tapping her foot to the second run of the music, as disconcerting as it was.

"I do believe the exact wording was 'motherfucking self-absorbed worthless piece of shit, you're an egotistical fucking cunt'" Sherlock quoted back to her, placing his hands behind his back.__

'Sweetness, sweetness I was only joking  
When I said by rights you should be  
Bludgeoned in your bed'

Lou winced slightly at that. "Yeah, well I don't handle well under stress and pressure. And if it's any consolation, I'm quite a casual cunter. I really am quite liberal with the word. If anything, coming from me it's a term of endearment!" She explained with a smile, sad but true, her one major vice was her use of profanity.

"I wouldn't expect anything less from the Essex girl." He jabbed, poking fun at her and catching her give him a smile at the constant normality of him belittling her home county.

They stood in silence for the next minute or so, letting '_Bigmouth Strikes Again' _run its full course. As the song finished, the lift shuddered to life and continued on its upwards journey.

"Oh thank fuck for that!" Louise shouted, to no one in particular, a grin spreading across her face and went back to gripping the side bar tightly, just in case.

Unbeknownst to her though, it was our of the frying pan and into the fire.

**Okay, chapter 7 done and dusted, do let me know what you think, you lovely readers, you!  
Also, to Ally and everyone else who was wondering, this is indeed set before Sherlock has met John, but he will still be in this fic! This is really a case to get to know Louise before A Study in Pink and then we'll be getting into series 1!  
Many thanks to angel897 and Ally for reviewing! Ally I'm glad you like Louise, I did try to make her somewhat likable ha-ha! You rock a lot and I appreciate your reviews! **

**DeathFrizbee**


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